Page 24 of Blood and Bells

“That’s the plan. Some more of my more magically inclined brethren can prepare some guarding spells, at least enough so you don’t die the instant that you set foot inside.”

“Yay,” she says weakly.

Her skin goes a bit pale as the reality of what we’re about to do sinks in. She’s either brave or crazy, and probably a combination of both, but spending time with her is the most fun I’ve had in ages. I want more of it, and I’m going to make sure I get it.

We finish our drinks and bundle up, readying ourselves to go back into the chill night. It’s been a long day, and she’s tired. More snow is falling, and the flakes twinkle in the lamplight, making everything look like a snow globe. Window boxes wear neat hats of snow. A wreath on the bakery door breathes cinnamon into the street. Outside, I pause and tilt my head towards the sky, closing my eyes and letting each snowflake hit me like a kiss.

“Are we going?” Holly nudges me in the arm.

“Ah,” I shake myself from my reverie. “Of course. Shall we?” I offer her my arm, which she snorts at before trudging down Main Street, leaving me behind. Hurrying to catch up, I fall into step beside her. Hopefully, she finds it charming.

Despite the lightly falling snow, the sky is clear, and the wind is crisp enough to give the skin a wonderful nip, but not enough to burn. The streets are completely empty, and most everyone is still inside the shops or has gone home for the night.

Main Street is well-decorated for the festival, with holly and garlands dripping from everything. It’s all quite delightful, really, and I wonder if there’s a much longer future for us here.

“Did you do all this?” I gesture at the decorations.

“Yes. I start planning for the festival in the spring. The work takes most of the year. Logistics, orders, catering, waste disposal, events, hotels, all of it. Each year there’s something new.”

“It’s incredible. I wouldn’t have thought organizing an annual event involving several thousand people would be quite so much work, and now that I say that sentence out loud, it seems absurd.”

This line gets a genuine laugh from her, and I try to be as present in the moment as I can. Her head tilts forward and she covers her mouth as she laughs into her glove. Snow falls around her, leaving traces behind on her eyelashes. Unable to help myself, I step forward and take her by the arm.

“Holly—”

Before I can get further, a screeching animal launches itself at her and they both tumble to the pavement. I’m forced to stumble back, surprised, as another creature thumps into me from the side, knocking me to the ground hard.

At first, it looks like a stray dog or something, but then several more shapes dart in and out of the shadows, and a better look reveals what’s happening. It’s not dogs.

It’s elves.

Rogue elves.

Scrambling to my feet, I look for Holly. I’m firmly past the point of irritation and have moved all the way to annoyance. Rogue elves? Really? Here I am, trying to be a nice guy—a gentleman even—and this is my reward? Being accosted by these creatures?

Holly is being pinned down—quite possibly tickled—while muffled sounds of battle and frustrated giggling emerge from the pile of bodies. I move to help, but another elf blocks my path, snarling and brandishing a candy-cane shaped staff. It swings at me, and I fold my arms. The staff shatters against my frame, exploding into shards of candy. The elf is left holding a jagged stump of cane, and he frowns at it.

“That was never going to work,” I say, before punting him neatly into a snowdrift, where he lands with an offended squeak. I make a note of his position so that I can tell Ronan. Or perhaps not. This is easily the stupidest battle I’ve ever been involved in, and a possessed goose once fought me for half a ham sandwich.

But I need to impress Holly, so this must be taken seriously.

To my surprise, she’s managed to push the elves off and has already armed herself with a wreath and a stick of garland. She uses the wreath as a shield and begins poking at the elves with her garland stick. One gets too close and she slams it against the side of the head. It vanishes in a puff of tinsel.

She pauses as tinsel floats through the air, settling on her shoulders. “They explode into Christmas? Did we know that?”

“Yes.”

I explode an elf myself with a well-aimed punch.

Faintly, Christmas carols sound. Deck the Halls. Tra la la la la.

“And I knew about the carols too,” I add.

There is no end to the layers this woman possesses. Not only is she a magic-themed event planner, but she’s also a seemingly gifted elf-fighter. Her beanie has been knocked clean off her head during the fracas and she plops it back on.

“Did you see that?” she asks, breathless and breathtaking.

“Wonderful,” I murmur. “But we should get out of here. There might be more of them, and this isn’t the time for heroics. These little gremlins are on a sugar-fueled rampage, and there’s no telling what⁠—”